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When the first Covid-19 cases appeared around the world, my first thought was: I really hope this is a false alarm — even though my rational side told me it was here to stay. I carried on as normal, hoping that “the less we talk about it, the less real it becomes”.
It didn’t work. Cases grew fast and it became impossible not to talk about it.
A perfect storm
At the time I was already going through a separation and close to an emotional breakdown, trying to cope with the inconsistency and shifting priorities of my former boss (no typo: I mean boss, not leader). In short: my love life on one side, my career on the other — the perfect recipe for disaster.
When a state of emergency was declared in March, I was already overwhelmed. Thankfully, I was among the privileged who kept their jobs and could work from home.
The first weeks of lockdown
The first two weeks nearly broke me. As well as adjusting to remote work, I let go of the lady who helps at home, looks after my daughter and runs the house. It was pure chaos: a 10-month-old who believed “mum at home = party”, the housework, and work at a pace I’d say was three times faster than at the office.
After two weeks I had to bring her back. I set up entry and exit protocols and carried on with faith.
The hard days
It was a time of tremendous loneliness and constant fear about everything. I struggled to sleep and spent weeks watching the sun rise — literally.
Some days I stayed in bed on minimum service. Some days I lived in pyjamas. Some days I was wrapped in overwhelming sadness. I threw pity parties — lots of them! I watched more live streams in a week than shows in 28 years. I felt like a terrible mother for being so flat, and felt my baby deserved a better mum.
I set routines, kept them for two days and dropped them for the rest. Trial and error, trial and error, trial and error.
Small changes, big difference
Thankfully nothing lasts forever, and I started to see glimpses that I could change things. I began with small steps, like not working in pyjamas — it sounds trivial, but it made a huge difference to my mood. I started exercising fairly consistently, began asking my loved ones for help, and gradually felt much better.
I had to adapt and re-adapt a thousand times, and I made decisions that I now see had a hugely positive impact.
Five lessons I carry with me
What I learned in those dark times
- Everything passes. However lonely you feel, stay firm in your decisions.
- Don’t be too hard on yourself. One day at a time — it’s fine not to manage everything.
- Cut down on social media and news. In such a wave of negativity, following everything only hurts your wellbeing.
- Ask for help! Often we just need to be heard. Message that trusted friend and share how you really feel — you’ll see we’re all on our own roller coaster.
- Feel. Feel everything. Don’t bottle anything up. Cry, shout, make a fuss — but feel it.
When the sadness doesn’t lift
Looking back, I know many mothers lived (and live) something similar, pandemic or not. If sadness, low energy or guilt last more than two weeks and stop you from coping day to day, it isn’t weakness — it may be depression, and it is treatable. We wrote about the signs of postpartum depression and where to get help. Talk to your doctor or visit your health centre.
I hope my story helps you see your own situation from another angle — with gratitude, or simply as a reminder that “like everything, this too shall pass”.
Keep up, mamas. You are doing an amazing job. 💛
With love, Carla
